


sparks fly when we touch

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Community: femslash11, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>There are things you need to know about Jane, too.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	sparks fly when we touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inlovewithnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/gifts).



> Thanks to mosca and k for running this again. Thanks to immortality for reading this over.

Before we go any further, I need you to get the facts straight.

I have a last name, which no one seems to remember. No one nods in my direction, "Ms. Foster," excited to shake my hand. I'm just Darcy, the sad-sack polysci major who made a disappointing life choice by applying for this internship. Okay, maybe not so much disappointing as confusing. On the scale of usefulness and approval by adult-types, analyzing the way women are treated in politics isn't much lower than storm-chasing after wormholes, but they're both pretty near the bottom of the barrel. And apparently, sad-sack Darcy who just doesn't understand this kind of stuff doesn't need a last name.

What else do you need to know about me? In my rare free time, I like to knit. I avoid button-down shirts because gaps in clothing are a sure-fire way to get unwanted attention. I like piña coladas and walks on the beach. I went to Mexico during spring break last year and got so sunburnt I had to be admitted to the hospital. I have a little brother.

There are things you need to know about Jane, too. She's... Sorry, I guess I need to collect my thoughts. She's really passionate about space and stars and numbers. And, I don't know. Other things, too. If she's ever not looking up, she's looking down at some chart or calculation. So you have to understand that some hunky dude falling out of the sky was basically some kind of karmic destiny for her. All blonde and muscled and talking about guarding asses and mew mew and some kind of space tree. Her fucking dream come true.

Pardon my French.

Never mind that I, sad-sack Darcy applied for the worst internship ever (in terms of careers and futures and stuff) and spend every waking moment at your beck and call, driving you into fucking solar flares or whatever. Never mind the kick in my stomach whenever you smile -- not _you_ , reader. This _you_ is Jane. If you didn't figure that out from the context clues -- or get some crazy idea or remember to say my name instead of "Hey, you." Never mind that you have the worst luck with men and said just one week ago that you were done with them, as a rule, and that you smiled at me, and asked if I wanted to go out for a drink.

Space dude never comes back, anyway. All the calculations in the world don't conjure up another sky tube or a flash or a well-built hammer-wielding fella. Even _I_ know he isn't coming back, not ever, and she's supposed to be the logical one here.

Facts. Just the facts.

After the third time we stood outside in the half-light past sunset waiting and watching and sighing she turned to me and touched my shoulder (who needs lightning with sparks like these?) and said "How about that drink?" And I may have made some sort of face at her, because what the hell, I thought she forgot about all that, and I don't want to be second choice, no way.

Didn't stop me from buying the first round. I am sad-sack Darcy, after all.

You should probably know that she was drunker than I was, and I kissed her anyway. For the sake of honesty.

"Oh, Darcy. Sweet Darcy."

"You were saying?"

"I don't like you, I mean, I do like you. But not like this. Not that this isn't nice, I just."

"No, that's pretty clear."

Space dude never comes back, like I said, but someone else does.

I'm not here to obscure the truth, though I may not have the passion for it like Jane does. I'm not ashamed to say that I left the internship. It was close to done anyway, and I kept feeling the way her lips felt and hearing her say "not like this" and looking up at the sky and mooning, mooning, mooning away. Mooning is an appropriate description here, because it's sky-related. That's another thing you should know about me. I'm not stupid.

Falling for a straight girl isn't stupid. It happens. And sometimes, there's someone else just waiting to crash through a rainbow bridge in silvery armor and the silkiest ponytail you've ever seen. You meaning _me_ in this case. I'm pretty sure you haven't seen her silky ponytail or her abs -- and you wouldn't think abs on a girl would work, but they really, really do. And by _her_ I mean Sif. Obviously.

She didn't come back for me, if that's what you're thinking. The lingering destruction burned at her mind, unable to let her rest. She had to set it right. That's why she came back. And I just happened to be there.

I should probably tell you that on the nights after I left the internship, I sometimes sort of... camped out, I guess. It was stupid, maybe, but I couldn't seem to let go or forget, and I guess Jane felt the same way, which is why she was always looking towards the heavens. My gaze was more earthward. I'd wrap up in my sleeping bag and let my iPod sing me to sleep, wondering if tonight was one when Jane would come careening across the desert to wait.

So, I happened to be there when it opened up again, the sky lighting up slowly at first, then splitting open with cracks of thunder like a thousand Fourth of Julys. And then she was there. Catching her breath and clutching her shield to her chest. I tried not to move, but she saw me anyway.

"You. I know you."

"You do?"

"Darcy Lewis."

"You're one of them, like him."

"I am Lady Sif. I have no equal."

You should know, probably, that I was still in my sleeping bag, looking up at a woman who had flitted in and out of my dreams since Thor zoomed back up to his space tree. She'd had Jane's face, then, sometimes.

She didn't now.

"Should I be worried? I mean, your boss hasn't ever seen fit to come back to our lowly realm. Are you banished, too, or something?"

"My staff has seen a thousand battles, more. My place in Valhalla is waiting. However, Darcy Lewis, there is a resolution that I seek."

I scrambled to my feet.

There's something you should know about me. I, sad-sack Darcy, will do just about anything for a pretty face.


End file.
